Vikings Unleashed: 9 modern Viking erotic romances Page 7

  “Yeah.” On the one hand, he could understand it. On the other, he hated that he seemed to be included in the people Bryn wanted to shut out. Even if he wasn’t sure he wanted in, he also knew he hated being out. It made no damn sense, but there it was.

  “I’m not sure if that’s sad or just sane.” Nauma stirred a big pot of beef stew, her brow furrowed. “I’ve never been in a battle, so I can only speculate on what kind of mental processes you guys go through.”

  “We all do what we have to do to survive, mentally and physically.” He considered the food she’d set out on the table—fresh baked bread, peach cobbler, salad. “Would you mind if I took some food upstairs? Maybe I can tempt her into eating.”

  She pulled a couple of bowls out of the cupboard and dished out stew. He wasn’t sure where she procured a tray, but soon two servings of everything were being pushed into his hands. She gave him a wry look. “I think you want to tempt her into other things, but…I have a feeling that not letting her shut everyone out is a good thing.”

  Something about her inflection made him focus on her more intently. “Would this feeling be—”

  “Not an official vision,” she hastened to assure him, but then she hesitated. “Though I’ll be honest and warn you that ignoring my hunches has always ended disastrously for me.”

  Disastrous. His gut clenched. Knowing everything Bryn had been through, he loathed the idea of her going through more. But the world might be ending, so they were all going to be put through the ringer, including her. If they failed to stop the apocalypse, no one on this farm except Bryn and him would survive. He hated that thought, hated that those he cared for would die, hated that innocent people would be killed in a war between gods they didn’t even believe in. They had to stop this. They had to. But if he were honest, Ragnarök had little to do with why he didn’t like being shut out by Bryn. Everything inside him rebelled at any distance between them. He hadn’t spoken to her since the day she’d had him killed, had only seen her from afar a few times since then. But now that he’d had her in his arms again, he found he couldn’t give it up. He needed to be near her and maybe, for a little while, allow them both to not be quite so alone.

  He smiled at Nauma. “Well, your gut instinct and mine are saying the same thing.”

  “Have a lovely evening. The rest of us will manage just fine without you.”

  “You’ll let us know if there are any Ragnarök updates.”

  It wasn’t a question, but she answered anyway. “Of course. Visions from me, techno-alerts from Ivar…we’ll call you.”

  Val stepped in the door, his gaze going directly to Nauma. A gamut of emotions crossed the man’s face, from blatant hunger to agonized suffering and back again. Nauma seemed intent on ignoring him. It appeared that the history between those two was as tortured as the one between Erik and Bryn. He shook his head and left the room. There was nothing he could do to help them. He wasn’t even sure there was anything he could do to help himself, in the end, but that was his problem to deal with.

  When he reached Bryn’s bedroom, the door was closed. He shifted the tray to one hand and knocked.

  He heard bed springs creak, light footsteps, and then the door opened. She already wore pajamas—a loose pair of drawstring pants and a tank top. He tried not to focus on her obvious lack of bra and the beautiful things that thin shirt did to her breasts.

  Her gaze swept him from head to toe before she jerked her chin at the food. “What’s that for?”

  He mustered up his most charming smile. “I’ll trade you some dinner and delicious dessert for a shower and a bed to sleep in that won’t have Val and Holm shaking the walls with their snoring.”

  Her head cocked to the side. “Do they actually snore?”

  “I have no idea.” He winked. “But I stowed my bag in here this morning, so I had to come back. And I came with an offering of home-cooked goodness.”

  “Smart man.” A smile fluttered at the corners of her lips, but she sobered quickly. “I’m not really fit company right now.”

  “I’m sure I’ve seen you in worse moods,” he said mildly. “Killing moods, in fact.”

  “True.” She dipped her chin to concede the point.

  “You really don’t want to try any of this? It smells amazing.” He waved a hand to waft the scent of food towards her. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was a very tiny rumble from her stomach. “I know I worked up an appetite today, and I bet riding horses for hours did the same for you. Though if you’re really not interested, I’m pretty sure I can finish it all myself.”

  Her tongue flicked out to run along her lower lip. “You could just leave mine here.”

  His body tightened, and he couldn’t help the image that formed in his mind of other things he’d like her tongue to be doing. “Sorry, no. I’m not your butler. All of this is mine, and I’m willing to share what I have, if you’re willing to share what you have.”

  “My shower and my bed.” Her expression turned dubious.

  He shrugged lightly. “Or you could go down and hang out with the team, eat with all of them. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you at the table.”

  “I’m not that hungry.” But she couldn’t hold his gaze, glancing to the side.

  “You’re avoiding everyone, let’s be honest.” He sighed. “You know, the first time I saw you, you were surrounded by a wall of fire.”

  Frowning, she shook her head. “Yeah, so?”

  “You were already something of a legend then.” And her legend continued to this day, no matter how she tried to avoid it.

  “So were you, dragon-slayer.” She propped her shoulder against the doorjamb. “Isn’t that tray getting heavy?”

  “I have preternatural strength so, no, not really. And don’t change the subject.” He gave her a pointed looked. “That’s how you still are, isn’t it? Always throwing up barriers between yourself and everyone else.”

  She stiffened, her jaw jutting. “Those barriers have helped protect me from some pretty awful stuff. And I haven’t exactly done well the few times I dropped them, have I? A lover who discarded me like I was no better than dirty laundry, a husband who had no problem having me drugged so he could take your sloppy seconds.” Her eyes widened dramatically. “Yeah, those were some great life choices. I can’t imagine why I don’t drop those barriers more often.”

  A direct hit. He tried not to wince and forced a smile. “Why don’t we talk about that over dinner?”

  Her lips pursed as if she’d tasted something sour. “I’m not interested in talking.”

  Neither was he, but he had a feeling they both needed to. It was far past time they started clearing the air between them, especially if they were going to be shackled to each other for all eternity. “Then how about I feed you and just wring you out in bed?”

  “You? Wring me out?” Her laugh was derisive. “What delusional fantasy are you living in?”

  He leaned forward until his nose was an inch from hers, invading her space. His gaze locked with hers, and he let a challenging grin curve his mouth. “I dare you to let me try.”

  He felt her muscles tighten, but she didn’t step back. Not his Bryn—she never backed down. Her expression went regally cool, reminding him of the queen she once was. “Really? You think I’m going to fall for that?”

  But the sweet scent of her arousal reached his nose, and his cock hardened in response. The wolf in him writhed with the need to claim her. He sensed her breathing and heart rate elevate and, if he glanced down, he was almost certain he’d see her nipples had tightened. But he kept his gaze on her face and let his smile widen. “No, I think you’re curious enough to want to know exactly how I intend to go about wringing you out.”

  Her lips compressed as if she was trying to hide a grin. She stepped back and held the door open. “I’m holding you to that.”

  “Please, do.”

  “First, though…you need a shower.” Her nose wrinkled as he walked by and set the tray on the mattress
. “Before you sit on my clean sheets. Seriously.”

  “So fastidious.” He dropped a quick kiss on her mouth, nipping at her full lower lip, then headed for the bathroom.

  He took the fastest shower of all time, not wanting to give her a chance to change her mind. He dried off, hung his towel, and was back in the bedroom within seven minutes. She was still spooning soup into her mouth, using the broth as a dipping sauce for her bread. He stood there for a moment, just watching her. She was so unbelievably gorgeous, it stole his breath every time he looked at her. Not that she’d ever cared much about her looks, and he thought that had always made her even more beautiful in his eyes. His late wife—damn her perfidious soul—had wielded her beauty like a weapon, using it to bring men to their knees. When it hadn’t worked with him, she’d resorted to dirtier tactics.

  Bryn’s eyebrows arched. “What are you standing there for?”

  “Enjoying the food porn.”

  She chuckled, and an automatic smile formed on his lips. He loved when she laughed.

  He stepped over to the bed, careful not to overset anything on the tray as he sat on the mattress. She handed him the remaining bread and bowl of stew and he grinned in return. “Thanks.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder, creating a cascade of blond silk. “Well you need to carb up if you’re going to wring me out.”

  “Sure.” He held his grin in place, propped his shoulders against her headboard, and tucked into his dinner.

  As Nauma had promised, she was a very good cook. The soup was flavorful, and he probably could have eaten an entire loaf of the bread by himself.

  They ate in companionable silence, and he realized how rarely he’d had the opportunity to spend quiet time alone with Bryn. He wouldn’t have pictured her ever being so restful, but contentment spread through him—sweet and warm and entirely unfamiliar. It was…nice. The word seemed tepid to describe the feeling within him, but he could get used to this. For once, the stress and pressure of being the World’s Chosen fell away and he could just be. If anyone understood what getting such a massive destiny shoved on to his shoulders felt like, it was Bryn. She knew the worst of him and had every reason to loathe him, and yet she was still here, sitting beside him.

  It was a relief in many ways.

  Death had given him a hero’s welcome to Valhalla, but few knew the real truth behind his demise. No one wanted the secrets that made a hero less than perfect, especially not one who was supposed to father the whole human race after Ragnarök. He was supposed to be flawless if he got to be the only man left standing at the end of days. But Bryn knew how they’d wronged each other and how it had ended both of their lives. She knew his flaws, and she still seemed to think he was up to the task he’d been given.

  Her spoon scraped the bottom of her bowl, calling his attention back to the present. She set the dish aside and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on the bony plateau.

  “Do you hate me, Bryn?” The question was out of his mouth before he could call it back.

  She blinked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “Why would that matter, after all this time?”

  Let it drop, Siegfried. But he couldn’t. Now that the words had been spoken, he needed to know. “You hated me back then. What I’m asking is—do you still?”

  A sigh trickled out of her, and she wrapped her arms around her bent legs. “No, I don’t. I wouldn’t have slept with you otherwise. I’m not sure I like you, but I don’t hate you. I know what the prophecy says about us repopulating the planet, but I’m not sure how much stock I put in that part. We’re good in bed together, so that makes part of fulfilling the prophecy fairly easy. However…we both have dominant personalities. I just don’t buy us not killing each other pretty quickly. That would end the repopulation movement a bit prematurely, wouldn’t it?”

  He grunted. “Growing older has made us both more and less tolerant.”

  “Ha. Yes, exactly.”

  “If it helps…I’ve been kicking my own ass for a millennium for having left you alone and not marrying you the moment you said yes.”

  “It helps, and it doesn’t. We could play woulda, coulda, shoulda forever, but that’s a game you can’t win and always just leaves you feeling like shit.” Her hands curved around her bare ankles. “After you left, I called back the ring of fire. I knew men took my being alone as a challenge to try and force me to marry them. While I could handle one or two or three men on my own, if they brought their army with them…I would have been screwed. Literally and figuratively. So I called back the fire. I knew the only man who could get through it was you.”

  “Then I spiked your wine with a potion to make you think it was Gunnar and not me.” His smile held no amusement. “After I’d spent all night with you, screwing like minks. After I’d promised Gunnar not to touch you.” He shook his head. “I should have known something was wrong, when I was so in love with Gudrun, so desperate to wed her, and yet I couldn’t resist you. The moment I saw you, I had to have you, had to claim you and make you mine.”

  “Wow, great. I’m your sexual Kryptonite,” she replied dryly.

  “When the potions wore off and we both realized what had happened—” He swallowed, balling his fingers as old rage flooded him. “I was so fucking angry. It was all I could do not to wring theirs necks.”

  She reared back, shooting him an incredulous look. “You brushed it off, told me to forget about it and be content with the good life I had.”

  “Of course, because when the potion wore off, I realized how badly I had betrayed you, how dishonorable I’d really been.” He forced his hands to relax, pressing them against the comforter. “The shame was eating me alive. I needed you to be content, does that make sense? That was the only way I could live with myself, if you were happy with the life you’d ended up with.”

  “You are such an idiot.” She shook her head. “How could you think I’d be any less angry than you were? How could you not see that I felt even more angry, more betrayed? It wasn’t just them who drugged and used me, it was you. The man I loved more than anything. Enough to basically imprison myself behind a wall of flames. Again. Did you think that was easy? I said I’d wait for you, and I kept my promise.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Old regrets threatened to consume him and burn a hole through his soul, but he battled them back. He couldn’t undo what had been done, and loathing himself accomplished nothing.

  She turned her head and met his gaze squarely. “Do you know the potion didn't just wear off for me? Your wife taunted me, humiliated me, because she got you and I didn't. She called me your concubine, your whore.”

  A strangled noise was all he could manage. Maybe that label was bandied around these days, but back then? For a lady—a queen—to be called a whore was an insult that could start a war.

  “She said shit like that to me every time we were alone together, rubbing salt on that wound daily.” Her crack of laughter was painful to hear. “When all the men were out on raids, she was fucking relentless.”

  There had been a lot of raids after the elixir wore off. It wasn’t for the glory anymore; it was to escape the castle so he didn’t have to face Bryn—his sister-in-law, his queen, the woman he’d still loved—day in and day out, so he didn’t have to look at his deceitful wife, so he didn’t murder his mother-in-law.

  Bryn had more than earned her reputation as a shieldmaiden while they were away, defending the kingdom against three different sieges. Gunnar and he could be gone so often because they knew the country was safe in her hands. He’d never known Gudrun had made her life miserable.

  Her fingers clenched into her pajama pants. “I wanted to kill her, but…she was telling the truth, wasn’t she? You had made me your whore.”

  “No, I didn’t mean…” Who the fuck cared what he’d meant to do? He’d still done it. He closed his eyes, horror blooming inside him. Gudrun, you heartless bitch. Had he known this back then, he might not have been able to restrain
himself from throttling his wife. “No wonder you wanted me dead.”

  Bryn leaned back, her head thunking softly against the headboard. “I tried to let it go, tried to be Zen about it like you wanted. But she wouldn’t let me.”

  “Shit.” He scrubbed a palm down his face. “I’m so sorry for my part in what happened. I should never have left you in the first place. I’m sorry I let Gudrun and Gunnar and Grimhild come between us.”

  She let her hands lift and fall. “That was one fucked up family.”

  A gusty laugh escaped him. “Right?”

  “They wanted the dragon’s gold.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It was all greed, and wanting what wasn’t theirs. We weren’t theirs, your gold wasn’t theirs, but they took everything.”

  “But I have my own portion of the blame. I can’t lay it all on their doorstep. Yes, I was drugged and used, but there were certainly more honorable choices I could have made, especially when it came to you.” Then he confessed the darkest part of his truth. “I should never have touched you, but I can’t regret it.”

  Her eyes rounded, then narrowed to dangerous slits.

  “Hate me if you want, but I will never regret having had the chance to touch you. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pass up that chance if you offer it. Even under the influence of a potion, even thinking I was in love with another woman, even engaged to that woman, I couldn’t resist you. I’ll never be able to.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry that you were hurt, I’m ashamed that I broke my word to my best friend—and to you, though I didn’t know it at the time—but touching you? No. I don’t regret that.”

  She folded her arms over her breasts. “You’re splitting some very fine hairs on that one.”

  “I know. Was what I did wrong? Hell, yes. No question about that. But there are only some parts of it I feel guilty for. Maybe that makes me a terrible person, but that doesn’t change how I feel.” He tapped a fingertip against his chest. “Good or bad, I have to live with what happened. I choose not to feel bad about the best sex of my entire life.”